


Grumpy and Doc

by StBridget



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Sickfic, grumpy Mac
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 13:50:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14137317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StBridget/pseuds/StBridget
Summary: It's Jack's duty to take care of Mac, even when the kid is sick.  If only he wasn't behaving like Grumpy the Dwarf. . .





	Grumpy and Doc

**Author's Note:**

> MacGyver is property of CBS and its creators.
> 
> Another sick Mac fic for Boozey_the_Ghost.
> 
> Inspired by a prompt in another fandom asking for a sick fic either grumpy or sweet. I did sweet, so I decided to try my hand at grumpy. :)

“How are you doing?” Jack Dalton asked his partner, Angus “Mac” MacGyver as Jack approached the bed where Mac was currently propped up against every pillow in the house (or at least that’s what it seemed like to Jack).

A fit of coughing was his answer.

“That good, huh?”  Jack held out a cup of cough syrup.  “Here, this will help.”

Mac shoved it away.  “Don’t wanna.”  His words were punctuated with more coughing.  “It makes me dopey.”

“Take it anyway,” Jack said, holding the cup out again.  “Maybe it will make you less grumpy,” he muttered under his breath.

“Not grumpy,” Mac pouted.

“Oh, you are most definitely grumpy,” Jack said.  “You’d fit right in with Snow White’s dwarves.  Guess that makes me Doc, since I’m stuck taking care of you.”

“If I take it, can I get up?” Mac bargained between coughs.

“Sure,” Jack said.  “As soon as you can stand without doubling over.”

“I can do that.”  Mac struggled to lift himself but was overcome with another bout of coughing.  Jack shoved him back down.

 “Uh-uh,” Jack said, firmly.  “You wouldn’t even be sitting up if it wasn’t worse when you lay down.”

Mac scowled.  “Don’t wanna be in bed.  I’m bored.”

Jack reached for Mac’s tablet on the bedside table and passed it to the bed-bound man.  “Here, why don’t you read awhile.”

Mac pushed that away, too.  “Sick of reading.”

“I can set up your laptop so you can watch a movie,” Jack suggested.

“Don’t wanna.”

“Crossword puzzle?  Cryptogram?  Sudoko?” Jack tried.

“No,” Mac said.  “Wanna do something.”

Jack sighed.  “Are you going to veto all my suggestions?”

“Not if you come up with something I actually want to do,” Mac said.

Jack wracked his brain for something to keep the genius occupied.  Finally, a brilliant idea came to him.  “Don’t you have a design program on your computer?”

“Yes,” Mac said, unsure of where this was going. 

“Why don’t I set you up with that, and you can design your next brilliant contraption?”

Mac thought about that.  “Okay,” he agreed.

“Medicine first,” Jack said.

Mac didn’t look happy, but he reluctantly swallowed the medicine.  “Happy now?”

“Atta boy,” Jack praised.  He fetched Mac’s laptop and pulled up the program, setting it on Mac’s knees.  “Here you go.”  Maybe now the kid would stop bugging him.

Or maybe not.  Jack had just gotten settled on the couch when he heard Mac call (more like croak) from the bedroom.  “Jaaaaacccccck!”

Jack went into the bedroom.  “What do you need, kid?”

Mac looked at him, pathetically, blue eyes wide (and read and watery, but that was beside the point).  “A pencil and paper?”

“Sure.”  Jack fetched the requested items.

“And can I get a glass of water?” Mac asked when Jack handed him the pencil and paper.

Jack didn’t see why Mac couldn’t have asked for that the first time, but he got a glass of water and put it on the bedside table.  “Anything else?” Jack asked, fervently hoping the answer would be no.

“Kleenex?”

“You have Kleenex,” Jack said, pointing at the box on the bedside table.

“It’s empty.”  Mac held it up to show that it was, in fact, empty.

“Alright.”  Jack went to the bathroom.  He had to search a bit, but he finally came up with a new box of tissues.  He took it back to Mac.

Mac looked at Jack pitifully.  “Open it?”

“You’re perfectly capable of opening it yourself,” Jack snapped.

Mac turned on the puppy dog eyes, and how could Jack resist those baby blues?  “Please?”

“Fine.”  Jack ripped open the box, probably a little more aggressively than was strictly necessary, but Jack could either take his anger out on the box or the kid, and he figured this was preferable.

“Thanks,” Mac said.  “And while you’re up. . .”

“So help me, Mac, if you ask for one more thing I’m going to tie you to the bed and force you to sleep this off,” Jack snarled.

Mac was undaunted.  “A bowl of soup?”

Jack started to answer in the negative, just because he was fed up, but he changed his mind.  Mac was bedridden, after all, and it was Jack’s duty to take care of him.  “As long as this is the last thing.”

“It is,” Mac promised.  Jack wasn’t sure he believed him, but he’d take what he could get.

Jack heated the soup (no canned stuff for Mac—Mac’s best friend and roommate Wilt Bozer had made a big pot of homemade chicken noodle) and carried it back to Mac.  The kid was sound asleep propped up against the pillows, letting out rattling snores.  Jack was a little concerned, but figured it was only natural with how congested Mac was.  That did mean Jack was stuck holding a bowl of soup, but he could eat that himself.  Hey, Bozer’s soup wasn’t just for the sick, and there was no way Jack was letting it go to waste.

Jack settled on the sofa, soup in hand.  He kicked his feet up on the coffee table and sighed in relief.  Peace at last.  At least until Mac woke up. . .


End file.
